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Updated: June 6, 2025
Mrs. Polkington was in a happy and contented frame of mind; the quiet wedding had gone off quite as well as Violet's grander one really, a quiet wedding is more effective than a smart one in the dull time of year, and always, of course, less expensive. Chèrie had looked lovely in simple dress, and the presents, considering the quietness and haste, were surprisingly numerous and handsome. Mr.
And really the arrangement was very good; the utilitarian feelings of the family did not suffer at wrenches and splits as did more tender ones; no one would object much to an advantageous division. And most advantageous it certainly was; the cottage household would go better without Mrs. Polkington and she would be far happier at the rectory.
There was only one Miss Polkington in the drawing-room that wintry afternoon Julia, the middle one of the three, the only one who could not fill even a larger room to the complete obliteration of furniture and fitments. Julia was not pretty, therefore she was seldom to be found in the drawing-room alone; she knew better than to attempt to occupy that stage by herself.
But here Rawson-Clew interrupted, but in the quiet, leisurely way which was so incomprehensible to the Hollanders. "My dear sir," he said, "please spare yourself the trouble of these details; I am the man with whom Miss Polkington had the misfortune to be lost on the Dunes."
Captain Polkington had been dozing; there really was nothing else to do; but suddenly he was aroused; there was a sound below; the motor moving at last. Yes, it was going, really going; he went to the window and, taking care not to be seen, watched the car go down the sandy road.
Johnny posted the letter that afternoon while Julia began her search for her father's hidden whisky. All the afternoon Captain Polkington sat in the easy-chair, watching her contemptuously when she was in sight and moving uneasily when she was not.
Then, to crown all, Captain Polkington had a fit of virtue and repentance on the second day after his return. It was not of long duration, and was, no doubt, partly physical, and not unconnected with the effects of his decline from the paths of temperance.
"I shall certainly go when I choose," Captain Polkington retorted; "I should like to know what is to prevent me and why I should not?" Julia remembered his dignity. "Shall we say because it is too far?" she suggested.
"We might have a game," he suggested, looking towards a pack of cards that stuck out of a half-opened drawer. "I have nothing in the world that I can call my own," Captain Polkington answered, without moving. Mr. Gillat felt in his own lean pockets surreptitiously. "We might play for paper," he said.
Polkington could not pretend that her son-in-law elect had aristocratic or influential connections; she said so frankly and her frankness, which was overstrained, was one of her most engaging characteristics. "It is no use pretending that I should not have been more pleased if he had been better connected," she said to those old friends and acquaintances whose Christianity led them to call.
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